


Just To See you Smile

by Cobrilee



Series: A Story in Texts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Derek talks about his family, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek likes it when Stiles texts him. He pretends he doesn't, but it's kind of one of his favorite things ever. Stiles is, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just To See you Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Two things: title comes from Tim McGraw's song of the same name. And I realize Stiles, at the very least, would probably not text in full sentences with proper punctuation and capitalization. But, it physically pains me to use text abbreviations. The idea of writing "u" makes me twitch. So some suspension of disbelief is required here.
> 
> I'm going to be shameless right now and ask for reviews for my birthday. :) If you read this and like it, please say something? Reviews are like nourishment for a writer, and while I love every single person who ever leaves one for me (seriously, y'all have no idea how much they make my day!), sometimes I feel like I'm starving. LOL

**Stiles: Hey, are you coming to the meeting?  
** **Derek: No.  
** **Stiles: Why not?**  
**Derek: Because I don’t want to.**  
**Stiles: If I was there I would be heaving a huge sigh and rolling my eyes at you.**  
**Derek: Which is why I’m glad you’re not here.**  
**Stiles: Ouch. You wound me.**  
**Derek: Not enough to keep you from bugging me, apparently.**  
**Stiles: Seriously, Der, you should be here. We’re going to talk about things that go all grr and growly. That’s kind of your department.**  
**Derek: Don’t call me Der. And I’ll pass.**  
**Stiles: FFS, I can’t call you dude, I can’t call you Der. What _can_ I call you?**  
**Derek: Derek.**  
**Stiles: But that’s boring.**  
**Derek: It’s my name.**  
**Stiles: Still boring.**  
**Derek: Still my name. Goodbye, Stiles.**  
**Stiles: But I haven’t talked you into going to the meeting yet!**  
**Derek: And you won’t. Goodbye, Stiles.**  
**Stiles: You are the biggest pain in my ass.**  
**Derek: Funny, I could say the same about you. And I have. Frequently. Good. Bye. Stiles.**  


Derek rolled his eyes as he tossed the phone on the couch beside him. He had no idea what the big deal was since they did pack meetings every time they were all back home. He figured it was mostly just an excuse for them to socialize when school wasn’t in session, and he wasn’t interested in the whole bonding thing. Bonding just meant more pain when those bonds broke.

He couldn’t deny that there was a small grin trying to fight its way onto his face, but he refused to let it have its way. He was fairly certain Stiles was the reason for every one of his headaches for the last, oh, three _years_. It didn’t matter that the kid was mostly hilarious and had the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever known, except maybe his mother, and also was braver than his entire family put together, which was saying a helluva lot. Stiles was still the one who made him rub at his eyes in exhaustion whenever he opened his damn mouth. 

**Stiles: What do you get when you cross a lemon with a lupine?**

Derek groaned. He knew where this was going.

**Stiles: A Sourwolf. :D**

Despite himself, he couldn’t keep the grin from slipping onto his face for a split-second before he scowled at the phone, his eyebrows drawing together.

**Derek: Not helping your case, Stiles.  
Stiles: Don’t care. It was funny.**

Derek took a quick shot of his long-suffering , unimpressed expression and sent it to Stiles.

**Derek: I’m rolling on the ground here.  
** **Stiles: I can see that. I’ll have to work on my delivery.**  
**Derek: You know what would help? Not delivering.**  
**Stiles: You think I’m hilarious and you know it.**  
**Derek: Now _that_ made me laugh.**  
**Stiles: Win!**  
**Derek: Go to the meeting, Stiles.**  
**Stiles: Talk to you later, buddy.**

He smirked, turning off his phone to avoid having to answer any, “wait, one more!” texts. Honestly, he didn’t actually hate Stiles. The truth of it was, he… kind of adored the kid. He was so much like Derek’s little brother that it was impossible to be _truly_ angry with him. His wittiness, his smart-ass tendencies, his quick quips, were all very reminiscent of the youngest Hale. He just happened to be a lot more attractive, but that was a train of thought Derek would not be boarding, not anymore.

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, he rose from the couch and started for his bookshelf. When he got there he began perusing the titles, but found his gaze becoming slightly unfocused as his thoughts began to drift. Unfortunately they drifted back to Stiles, which they had been doing more and more of late. It was getting harder and harder to focus only on the fact that he reminded Derek of his little brother, and not to think about how much he genuinely liked the young man. Not to mention that E had never gotten a chance to develop the way Stiles had.

_Stop_ , Derek commanded himself sternly. _You know what happens when you start thinking about Stiles like that._

His wolf growled, the singular word echoing through his mind.

_Mine._

Sighing, Derek gave in and retraced his steps back to the coffee table. He hadn’t registered a single title on his bookshelf, anyway; trying to concentrate on reading was clearly going to be a lost cause. He pressed the power button, waiting for the phone to boot up and the familiar home screen to blink on.

_You have 1 new message._

Unbidden, a smile curved his lips as he opened the message to see Stiles’ name at the top of his list of texts, the bolded black words indicating an unread message.

**Stiles: FFS, Derek, it’s couple-city here. I need you to rescue me from all the making out.  
** **Derek: I would have thought you’d want to take part.**  
**Stiles: Well, yeah, if one of them wanted to make out with me.**  
**Derek: _Any_ of them?**

He could vividly imagine Stiles sputtering in outrage, and the image in his head made the grin stretch wider on his face.

**Stiles: Of course not! I wouldn’t make out with my best friend’s girlfriend, obvs. And I’m not into Aiden’s aggressive alpha bullshit.  
** **Derek: Obvs.**  
**Stiles: OMG, Derek, did you just use text lingo?**  
**Derek: Shut it. I’m not coming to the meeting. You really think my wolf wants to smell all those raging teenage hormones?**  
**Stiles: Save me, Derek. Please. You’re my only hope!**

Derek was torn. He absolutely wanted to go get Stiles and have some time alone with the kid, but he knew that time alone was dangerous. Especially since he’d have to be in the presence of “all those raging teenage hormones” and it would likely put him in the mood to say or do something he really, really shouldn’t.

**Derek: Why don’t you just leave? I’m sure you have your Jeep.  
** **Stiles: Nope. Rode over with Scott. And it’s Lydia’s house, so she’s not going to leave.**  
**Derek: Who all is there?**  
**Stiles: Scott and Kira, Lydia and Aiden, Danny and Ethan, Liam and Hayden, Malia and Mason.**  
**Derek: Well there you go. Malia and Mason aren’t a couple, I’m sure neither will have a problem driving you.**  
**Stiles: You would be wrong. Malia and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now, and Mason rode over with Liam and Hayden.**  
**Derek: Make out with Mason, then.**

It was mostly a joke, but Derek would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in Stiles’ reaction to the suggestion.

**Stiles: Please. He’s interested in Brett. Or Corey. Or both.  
** **Derek: That wasn’t a, “Please, he’s a guy, no,” response.**  
**Stiles: Um. This isn’t a conversation I’m comfortable having by text.**

Derek’s pulse picked up. Shit. This could either be very bad, or very, very good.

**Derek: You’re at Lydia’s?  
** **Stiles: Yeah. Last house on Beacham Lane.**  
**Derek: That’s ten minutes from me.**  
**Stiles: So I’ll see you in five?**

He snorted. Yeah, okay, maybe he was kind of hell on wheels. Or at least he had been when he had the Camaro. 

**Derek: I drive an SUV now, remember? I’m not going to floor it, that would cost half my inheritance in gas.  
** **Stiles: Yeah, that reminds me, why the hell did you trade the Camaro in for a soccer-mom-mobile?**  
**Derek: You really don’t want that ride, do you?**  
**Stiles: Sorry. No more insulting the Halehound. Get it, like Greyhound, and it being a bus to pick people up, like you’re picking me up?**  
**Derek: Your jokes are getting worse.**  
**Stiles: Yeah, that wasn’t one of my better efforts.**  
**Derek: I’ll be there in ten.**  
**Stiles: Make sure you get all the soccer balls out so there’s room for me.**  
**Derek: Oh, that won’t be a problem. All the soccer balls are in the backseat, which leaves plenty of room for you in the cargo hold.**  
**Stiles: You’re mean.**  
**Derek: And you’re pushing your luck.**  
**Stiles: See you in ten.**

Laughing a little, Derek slid his phone in his back pocket and snagged his keys from the kitchen counter. He wouldn’t admit it under pain of death, but Stiles made him the closest to happy he’d been since his family died. There was a part of him that believed he would never be _truly_ happy again, but Stiles was getting him there. He could probably count on two fingers the number of times he’d genuinely smiled before coming back to Beacon Hills, and he wasn’t sure he’d laughed once in that entire time. Since he’d become actual friends with the human member of the pack, however, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d smiled and laughed.

Although he would admit that being around Stiles had been hard at first because of his striking similarities to E, making him lash out unreasonably at the poor kid, it was those same similarities that had drawn him in and refused to let go. He’d had Laura, and later learned that Cora was still alive, and somehow that made missing his little brother even harder on him. He’d wanted that small connection with his brother, and had found himself gravitating toward Stiles because of it. Eventually he’d conceded that there was something much stronger tying him to the sarcastic pain in his ass, although he would never have breathed a word of that revelation out loud.

Those were the thoughts tumbling around in his mind when he pulled up in front of the impressive Martin house. It wasn’t as large as his family’s home had been, but it was clearly in much better condition. He idled at the curb, debating on the wisdom of honking before realizing that he would likely end up with a neighborhood full of grumpy yuppies glaring at him from their lawns if he disturbed them with the honk of a horn. 

**Derek: Here.  
** **Stiles: Come on in and say hi. They’re your pack too, Der.**  
**Derek: No. And my name is not Der.**  
**Stiles: Oh my _God_ , Derek, stop being such a damn Sourwolf!**  
**Derek: Oh look, I’m pulling away from the curb.**  
**Stiles: On my way.**

He couldn’t help it; the constant banter was one of his favorite things and it made him chuckle. When the front door of Lydia’s house swung open and Stiles’ head poked out, he quickly wiped the mirth from his face and settled into a grumpy frown. As Stiles got closer, he caught sight of Derek’s expression and sighed in frustration.

“God, Derek, what is your _problem_?” he grumbled as he yanked the door open, tossing his backpack onto the floorboard and pulling his long-limbed frame into the vehicle. “You look perpetually pissed off.”

Shrugging, Derek put the SUV into gear and flipped a U-turn on the quiet street, giving a cursory glance in either direction before making a left turn onto the main road. Stiles pointedly looked back at the bright red stop sign Derek hadn’t even bothered to slow down at. “You _do_ realize being a werewolf doesn’t make you exempt from the traffic laws of man, right?”

“My desire to be a law-abiding citizen keeps me up at night,” Derek countered dryly.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You’re talking to the Sheriff’s kid, you know. I could report you.”

Derek snorted in amusement. “Please, Stiles. You break more laws than the entire pack put together. I don’t know how John doesn’t have the world’s biggest ulcer from putting up with your bullshit.”

He winced, his face sheepish. “He deserves so much better than me.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that actually, there was no one alive who deserved someone as amazing as Stiles, least of all Derek himself, but he managed to clamp his mouth shut before the words spilled off his runaway tongue. “You know he wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he said instead, keeping his tone neutral.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Stiles acknowledged fondly. Shifting in the seat, an accusing scowl returned to his face. “But back to my whole, ‘you’re always pissed’ observation. Why?”

“Why what?” In consideration for the fragile human sitting in his passenger seat, Derek slowed enough to merge properly onto the busy boulevard ahead of them instead of gunning it and whipping across three lanes of traffic.

“Why do you always look like you’re ready to tear out my throat whenever you have to deal with me?” Stiles clarified irritably. 

He thought about it, ignoring the traffic ahead of them until Stiles yelped, clutched the handle over the door, and lifted himself halfway out of his seat as if he was trying to scramble away from the accident they were about to get into. Derek slammed on the brakes without looking out of the windshield, still studying Stiles’ face, and came to a dead stop just inches away from the bumper of the vehicle in front of them. “It’s just the way my face works,” he said finally, and Stiles gaped at him.

“YOU NEARLY KILL ME AND THAT’S THE BEST ANSWER YOU CAN COME UP WITH?” he yelled, and Derek fought to keep the grin off his face, instead staring back at him blandly. Pretending to be nothing but a grumpy asshole in order to get a rise out of Stiles was his second-favorite thing, behind their texting banter. It probably still made him an asshole, but at least not as grumpy of one as he acted like.

“It’s the truth. Do you want me to lie to you?”

Stiles’ jaw dropped as he stared incredulously at Derek. “It’s not the truth and you damn well know it!” he muttered petulantly. “You forget I saw you flirt with that deputy that one time. That smile you dropped on her could have blocked out the sun. Your face was made for the exact opposite of scowling.”

Derek’s heartbeat quickened and he was insanely grateful that Stiles wasn’t a werewolf. He was pretty sure any wolf in a ten-mile radius would be able to smell exactly how much he wanted Stiles right now. “So you like my smile?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light. He was tempted to wink and make it teasing, but that would destroy Stiles’ image of him, and he wasn’t quite ready to let on exactly how wrong Stiles was about him.

Stiles made a face. “Oh sure, _that’s_ what you get out of that,” he groused. “Your smile is inhumanly beautiful, Der. It’s ridiculously unfair to us mere mortals who have that thing turned on us and reduce our minds to a quivering mass of jelly. All “us”es being general, because of course I’ve never had that happen to me, but you know what I mean.”

Derek waited a beat before casually turning his head, letting the aforementioned smile spread slowly until it beamed across the vehicle at Stiles, whose mouth had fallen open and whose heart had started racing like a contender for the Triple Crown. “You mean like this?”

Stiles’ mouth flapped like a fish for several seconds and Derek couldn’t help it; he preened. “Oh my _God_ , Derek, why do you keep that thing locked up like a medieval virgin’s chastity belt? We could have been kicking all of the bad guys’ asses while you blinded them with that mega-watt grin!”

A chuckle bubbled from between his lips and Stiles’ eyes bugged out. “You’re exaggerating,” he said in amusement, pulling into the parking lot of his favorite little diner and gesturing for Stiles to get out of the SUV. He did, unable to tear his stupefied gaze from Derek’s pleased one.

“I’m not hearing things, right? You just laughed?”

Derek snorted. “Get your scrawny ass inside, Stiles.”

“My ass isn’t scrawny,” he muttered, but he allowed Derek to hold the door open and preceded him inside anyway. Derek led them to a booth in the back, knowing from past experience that no one would ever show up to seat them. “What are we doing here?”

“You’re buying me dinner in exchange for rescuing you from Lydia’s House of Hormonal Horrors.”

Stiles scoffed as he picked up the menu. “First off, if I was going to buy you dinner, it wouldn’t be at some cheap diner with cracked, turquoise pleather seating that has stuffing sticking out of it. Second, why the hell am I paying? Who’s the broke college student and who’s the independently wealthy man of the world?”

“You owe me,” Derek countered, settling back into the seat to immerse himself in the easy, affectionate back-and-forth. He enjoyed it in texts, but it had been so long since he’d experienced anything remotely similar to it in person that he hadn’t realized how much _better_ it was. 

“I had a three-hundred-dollar biology textbook to buy this semester,” he complained, and Derek raised one eyebrow at him.

He had every intention of paying for the meal, but he wasn’t going to tell Stiles that yet. “Sounds like maybe you should start writing your own textbooks,” he suggested. “Then you won’t be too broke to buy me dinner.” He unleashed another dazzling grin, quietly rejoicing when Stiles’ desire flared and his heart began to gallop again. 

“I think I can find a way to make that happen,” he replied, his voice strangled. “The dinner-buying thing, I mean, not the textbook-writing thing.”

“Why not?” Derek asked seriously. “You know as much or more about a lot of subjects than most of the people writing the books. If you did some kind of supernatural studies class, you could write _volumes_.”

“Yeah, because you really want me writing a dissertation on lycanthrophy,” Stiles shot back sarcastically. “The world needs to know _all_ about you guys.”

He frowned. “Well, no. But you know what I mean. You’re smart, Stiles. You have a flair for story-telling and educating. You’d be a great teacher.”

Stiles blinked at him. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” The pleased look that earned him was worth the flattery-truth though it was, he wasn’t in the habit of bolstering Stiles’ ego. He was glad he’d momentarily broken his own rule.

Stiles leaned forward, studying him. “Okay, I’m going to ask again. Why do you always treat me like you want to kill the annoying human? You clearly don’t hate me as much as I thought you did, so what gives with the, ‘I’m going to eat your face’ attitude?”

Sighing, Derek looked down at his hands while he gathered his thoughts. “You remind me of my little brother,” he finally admitted, peeking up through lowered lashes to watch the confusion play across Stiles’ face. “I miss him, a lot. When I first met you, the similarities were so strong that I hated being around you because it hurt so much.”

“Huh.” Stiles sat back in the booth, drumming his fingers on the dingy white formica threaded through with antique gold that looked more like fissures in the surface than the accents they were meant to be. “So I made you miss him more?”

Derek nodded. “I had just lost Laura, and I didn’t know Cora was still alive. And then here was this walking, talking, equally as much of a sarcastic little shit reminder of my baby brother. I wanted to pulverize you for being alive when he wasn’t, and for reminding me how much it hurt to have lost him. To have lost all of them.” It was uncharacteristic of him to be so open and honest, but this was Stiles. He was tired of pretending with him.

“Tell me about him.”

Derek’s eyes brightened. “You would have loved him. Either that or you would have hated him, because he would have given you a run for your money. He was only twelve when the fire happened, but he was the most sarcastic person I’d ever known in my whole life. He couldn’t open his mouth without needling _someone_. Usually it was Cora. Since they were closer in age, he had an easier time getting a reaction out of her.” He fell silent for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was laced with sorrow. “He was so damn smart that it scared the rest of us, and he would have been the best of all of us. He would have been the most successful, done the most with his life. Instead, all that potential was cut short.”

He sensed the movement more than saw it, but then Stiles’ hand was stretched across the table, hesitantly covering his. Without stopping to think about it, and as a result talk himself out of it, Derek flipped his hand face-up so that their palms were pressed together. Stiles’ quick inhale of breath wasn’t lost on him, but he wiggled his hand a little until their fingers lined up and they laced together easily, naturally. Neither commented on it or even acknowledged it; Derek imagined both were afraid of breaking the spell and making it awkward.

“He sounds like an amazing kid,” Stiles acknowledged quietly. “I wish I would have gotten a chance to meet him.”

A fond smile curved Derek’s lips. “I wish he’d had a chance to meet you, too. He’d have given you massive shit, but I think he would have known how special you are. Eric had a knack for sizing people up quickly, and he was never wrong.”

There was no response from Stiles, and when Derek looked up he was puzzled by the expression on the younger man’s face. His lips were quivering and he looked almost like he was in pain. He wondered if maybe he’d gone too far by calling Stiles special, when a muffled snicker broke free. Stiles immediately bit down hard on his lip, trying to control his reaction, and Derek suddenly realized he was fighting laughter.

“What?” he asked, confused, and that was all it took. A choked gasp burst from Stiles’ lips and he shook his head, desperately trying to dispel the giggles.

“So your parents named their kids Laura and Cora… and Derek and Eric?”

Derek finally understood why Stiles’ shoulders were shaking, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We heard that all our lives.”

“But _why_? Why did they sentence their kids to a lifetime-or at least what they thought would be a lifetime-of being teased for rhyming names?” Stiles winced, shrinking back a little, and Derek realized he probably felt guilty about making what would appear to be a critical comment about his deceased parents.

He tried to alleviate Stiles’ guilt by shrugging as if it was of no importance. “They thought it was cute and would make us closer.”

“I guess maybe it worked, then,” Stiles offered.

Derek smirked. “For me and Eric, yeah. Laura and Cora were always at each others’ throats.”

“Duh,” Stiles snorted. “Two female teenaged werewolves in the same house? I kind of feel sorry for your parents on that one.”

“Don’t forget I had to put up with it, too,” Derek pointed out wryly. “I was the one constantly getting pulled into the middle of their shit. Laura always expected me to side with her, but I stuck up for Cora most of the time because Mom and Dad tended to favor Laura.” He stopped when he realized Stiles was watching him closely, his eyes soft and happy. “What?”

“I’ve never heard you talk about your family like this,” he replied. “I really like it.”

Derek’s fingers tightened around Stiles’ and his breath caught when Stiles answered with a squeeze of his own. “Yeah? What else do you like?”

“You,” Stiles answered simply, and Derek’s heart stuttered to a stop before resuming sluggishly as his body tried to process the information on all fronts-mental, physical, and emotional.

“And that whole conversation you didn’t want to have by text?” Derek prodded, his eyes searching Stiles’ carefully. 

Stiles grinned lop-sidedly. “I may have failed to mention that I’ve known for a couple years now that I’m bi. You were pretty instrumental in that awakening.”

“I’m honored to have played such an important role in your life,” Derek murmured, his throat tight. “So… Have you ever been with a guy?”

“Nope,” Stiles answered easily. “I was waiting for the right one.” 

Derek held his breath, knowing the answer but needing the words to be spoken out loud anyway. “And that right one is…?”

Stiles rolled his eyes in affectionate exasperation. “ _You_ , you dumbass. Who else? No one else could ever eclipse that incredible smile of yours. I was yours the moment you leveled it at that poor deputy, it just took me a long time to figure it out.”

“Does that make this our first date?” Derek teased, and Stiles grinned.

“I guess it’s a good thing I brought my wallet.”

Derek pulled back, frowning. “I was messing with you about that, Stiles. I’ll pay.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf. Let me buy my boyfriend dinner.” 

Derek could hear the anxiety threading through his voice and he winked, pleased when Stiles visibly relaxed. “Only if you let me buy you dinner next time.”

“You know, I think we’re going to be doing this for awhile,” Stiles pointed out in amusement. “I don’t think we’re going to have to keep track of who pays for what. Although you’re totally paying more often than I am. I reiterate, broke college student versus independently wealthy man of the world.”

Derek allowed the smile that he knew Stiles loved so much to illuminate his face once more. “I think we’ll be able to work something out.” Feeling lighter than he had in years, he glanced down at his menu. He was suddenly ravenous.

They had been quiet for a few moments, both looking over the menu while Stiles’ thumb idly rubbed against Derek’s pinky, when Stiles suddenly let out a soft ripple of laughter. He looked up, his eyes twinkling mischievously when he met Derek’s curious gaze. “I just had this thought of you wanting to name our kids Kevin and Devon.” 

Derek blinked, the idea both terrifying and intriguing all at once. He could see that Stiles was a little nervous, presumably about mentioning the “k” word so soon, and he offered up a smirk in order to ease his mind. “Or Brittany and Whitney,” he agreed, and Stiles snorted. “But maybe we should wait until we’ve finished our first date to start planning kids’ names.”

Stiles scoffed. “You act like I haven’t been thinking about this since senior year.”

He let out a surprised huff. “Maybe let me catch up a little bit?”

“I’m in no hurry,” Stiles murmured, glancing back down at his menu while tightening his fingers around Derek’s.

Derek watched him, his own menu forgotten as his eyes tracked the movements of Stiles’ expressive face, softening in happiness when he realized the thoughts that had been creeping in through his subconscious for the past couple years had all been leading to this moment. He was grateful, in a way, that Stiles had been patient enough to not pursue anything even once he realized what he wanted, because Derek knew he wouldn’t have been ready for this even a year ago. 

Now, however? He was all in.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from the fact that no one ever remarks on the potential siblings Derek lost, and it also astounds me that I have never once seen anyone comment on the fact that Laura's and Cora's names rhyme. Seriously? I think Jeff forgot all about Laura when he created Cora. Or maybe he rhymed them on purpose. Either way, I always SMH when I read their names together in stories.
> 
> Funny anecdote. I was trying to come up with a pair of rhyming girl names and couldn't for the life of me think of any. Then I had to do a total mental facepalm when I realized that my entire life, when people are told my name but can't quite hear it, they respond, "Whitney?" So, yeah. Apparently I used up all my brain power on Derek's and Stiles' banter. LOL


End file.
